


Problem(s)

by tjstar



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Ben Hargreeves-centric, Broken Bones, Disturbing Themes, Drug Addiction, Fights, Gen, Ghosts, Homelessness, Hurt Klaus Hargreeves, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mentions of Prostitution, No Incest, Overdosing, Pre-Canon, Self-Destruction, Sibling Bonding, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:35:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25508335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tjstar/pseuds/tjstar
Summary: There are the days when Ben hates Klaus’ guts; there are the days when Ben takes care of him in his own twisted way.
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves
Comments: 18
Kudos: 149





	Problem(s)

“Should be plural, you know,” Ben says. _“Problems-s._ Not a problem.”

Klaus taps his fingers on his bouncing knee — nervously, desperately, chaotically; after all the years of being dead, Ben learned his body language. Eyelid tick is for cravings, dramatic eye-roll is for desperation, every seemingly meaningless gesture makes sense now. 

“I have _problems.”_

Of course, Klaus agrees with him; easily, because his words won’t change anything. There are _good days_ and _bad days,_ as if there’s no in-betweens. And well, today is definitely a _bad_ day for both of them — a bad trip, an intense comedown, and all the shelters are packed with homeless people and souls. And they simply don’t fit — nowhere — Klaus doesn’t know what’s real anymore, Ben doesn’t know if _he’s real_ — that’s just how it goes. In and out of rehabs, in and out of strangers’ beds, in and out of dumpsters. Ben hates being just a silent watcher, Ben hates this shitty movie about self-destruction he’s never bought a ticket for. But ironically, he’s got the front row seat — what a sight! — buckle up and enjoy the Rollercoaster Of Klaus’ Life. The rollercoaster that’s falling apart. And is on fire. Much fun. 

“You’re falling apart,” just a statement. 

Klaus lights up a joint.

“I think he broke my rib.”

His _clients_ get cruel sometimes — way too often — leaving Klaus curled into himself beside the nearest wall in the alleyways. Sometimes there’s money, sometimes there’s pain; Ben remembers it, remembers the force of the eldritch monsters ripping his body to shreds. Klaus would’ve lost his shit if Ben’s ghost looked like that. Klaus sees the dead, but Ben now sees them first; it’s a terrifying sneak-peek into Klaus’ point of view — he’s getting used to it now. Maybe, he’s handling it even better than Klaus himself, but being dead among the dead is much easier than being a lighthouse for the corpses. That’s what Klaus says when Ben tells him to stop whining about how hard his life is. While his mind is still clouded, the ghosts gather around, waiting for Klaus to sober up just a little to start their ritual — _help us, tell them who killed us, why, Klaus, why?_ Sometimes they see Ben, sometimes they try to talk to Ben instead — ghosts can interact with each other, what a shocking revelation — as to the closest one to their living Ouija board. Klaus ignores them. Ben ignores them. HELLO, fuck off, GOODBYE. 

Klaus is definitely a bad influence. Ben doesn’t know why he’s stuck here — with Klaus. Klaus! Out of all the siblings — why he’s forced to watch his brother slowly killing himself. Klaus wears black, paints his nails black as if he’s getting ready for his own funeral. 

Ben says,

“I just want you to make it through another year.”

He bites his tongue not to add _you_ _idiot._ He doesn’t know what he’s gonna do if — when — Klaus dies of overdose covered in his own bodily fluids in a crackhouse. Call him selfish, but that’s where being dead gets you. 

Klaus spits out blood and passes out.

***

Good days are, in fact, the ones when Klaus just smokes the weed — it makes him all giggly and confused, it makes the ghosts around him and Ben disappear. On their _good_ days Ben wants to kick his ass even more, because Klaus is not high enough to completely lose the grip on reality. 

He listens to Ben. He listens. 

***

This pre-teen girl has been haunting them for a week — all bloodied, broken, she’s been sobbing restlessly, begging Klaus to tell her father what happened to her, listing all the horrible things their neighbor has done to her. Ben is aware that Klaus’ withdrawal has just reached the point when a thin world starts to get too annoying — he clamps his palms over his ears as the girl keeps bawling her eyes out. 

“Help her, Klaus, she’s not gonna leave you alone,” Ben tries to touch Klaus’ shoulder, but his hand sinks through his coat. “She’s suffering.”

“Oh really?!” Klaus turns to him harshly. “Guess who else is suffering?” he points his thumbs at himself. 

“You shouldn’t have taken that shit.”

A low blow. Ha.

_“He pinned me to the wall, and…”_

She’s the only one who’s knocking on the door of Klaus’ mind tonight. 

“God, this is unbearable!” Klaus pulls at his hair so hard Ben is sure some loose strands stay clamped in his fists. “Will you ever shut up?”

Ben takes her side. She’s just a kid — a dead kid, Ben can relate. 

“You know you can help. That’s your thing.”

 _You’re better than that_ is hidden between the lines. The usual. Praising works sometimes. 

“Thanks for reminding me,” Klaus huffs. There’s the notes of uncertainty in his voice, and he’s definitely heard where the body was buried; Ben gets a little closer, the girl cries a little louder, and Klaus looks like he’s going to throw up. 

“I’m not…” he starts, but Ben doesn’t let him finish. 

“You know the address, there’s a rave club just around the corner,” he tries to speak calmly; he would’ve done that on his own, but his incorporeal form is a big problem now. “Talk to her parents.”

Klaus swallows down a hiccup.

“A rave club? Ah, that one,” he scratches the stubble on his chin. “Yeah. Hey there,” he turns to a ghost. “Stop it… Please.”

His voice shakes miserably. 

She’s wearing a light dress, ripped and soiled, and Ben can’t look at this anymore. Maybe, just maybe, he understands Klaus’ motives; but mostly — he hates to admit that — he thinks it’s unfair. Klaus’ _true_ potential, everything. It just remains unused, Ben’s thoughts grow darker as they walk. Klaus keeps scratching his forearms until they bleed, painting his bitten nails red. 

“It’s a bad idea,” Klaus whispers as they approach the girl’s house.

Her tantrum doesn’t subside.

*** 

“I’m never listening to the dead again. Including you.”

He’s got a point there, but it somehow hurts Ben’s dignity. 

“You didn’t even fight back.”

“You’re bringing this up now? Seriously? Oh, _fick dich,_ Ben.”

Klaus cradles his broken right arm to his chest — he doesn’t even have a comfortable shoulder sling, just some poorly applied cast; they had to go to ER when a heart-to-heart talk with the girl’s father gone wrong. Klaus got kicked off the porch, and his withdrawal left him boneless and defenseless so he couldn’t do anything but lay still while a frenzied man kept _blaming him_ while using him like his personal punching bag. Worst of all, Ben couldn’t do anything as well. Klaus’ pupils are uneven, and this time it’s not because of the drugs, but they can’t afford a hospital stay. Klaus tries to keep his coat around his shoulders with his good arm, but it keeps slipping down; he groans and lets it fall, screwing his eyes shut and sliding down the side of a dumpster. 

“Why don’t you just go to Diego?” 

“Oh, let me think… Maybe because he lives on the opposite end of the city, and my kidneys hurt like Hell so I can barely hold my bloody piss?” Klaus pulls his knees to his chest. “Shit, I think the right one is smashed. Would it be better if I sold it?”

“Klaus—”

“That’s enough. I don’t need your company,” Klaus heaves himself up on his feet. He sways, leaning against the wall. “You can go see the light at the end of the tunnel, whatever.”

Klaus shoves his GOODBYE palm right into Ben’s face. 

This feels like a physical punch.

“You… _What?”_

Klaus doesn’t respond, tottering down the alley.

“Where are you going?”

“To make money? I still need a place to sleep.”

He’s going to _work,_ and it makes The Horror inside of Ben twitch; he should’ve expected that. 

“You’re concussed,” Ben says dryly. 

“Do you think I _don’t_ feel that?!” Klaus laughs in the creepiest way possible, on the verge of sobbing.

Maybe spending the night at the police station would be a better option for him.

*** 

He’s lowering the prices.

That’s such a second-hand embarrassment; Ben hopes that Klaus is not going to find any clients today. Well, his dream sort of comes true. Klaus pukes his brains out directly on some guy’s shoes before he even drops to his knees. It’s a miracle that he doesn’t break Klaus’ arm for the second time.

***

Klaus eventually manages to make some money.

***

Ben gets into the ambulance car when Klaus blacks out with the needle stuck in the crook of his elbow.

***

“How’s your day been?”

“Oh, you know… Dicks, drugs, debutantes. My holy trinity.”

“It’s a rehab, Klaus.”

“It’s a talent, Ben.”

Klaus gives him a humorless smile. 

Ben tried to give him more privacy and maybe find someone else for a company, because Klaus clearly didn’t want to see him around. That has only made Ben feel more useless, more dead, more guilty. 

“I shouldn’t have pushed you that hard,” Ben says. 

And Klaus says,

“I shouldn’t have listened.” 

This is one of the days when Ben wants to punch him in the face — one of the _good_ days nevertheless. He’s wearing more color — red capris and flip-flops — but his eyes are still glazed over, and his skin looks sickly gray. Maybe that’s just the lack of his heavy makeup. The cast’s been replaced with an elastic wrist splint; Klaus’ moves are slow and relaxed, and Ben can tell that he’s not as sober as he should be. There’s a black pocket flask tucked between Klaus’ pillow and the wall. Of course. 

Ben missed him despite their never-ending conflict, but he needs a better excuse.

“Did you know that Vanya published a book?”

Klaus breathes out through his clenched teeth. 

“Yeah. I wonder how bad it’s gonna be.”

Then he chuckles,

“Nevermind.” 

“We could, you know,” Ben pauses. “Read it together when you get a copy.”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s start our own book club or something.”

Klaus looks right through Ben, nothing unusual; _the others_ slowly fill the room as if waiting for their therapist to enter the office. They’re mangled, lost, noisy. 

They’re nothing like _Ben,_ right?

The light flickers, Klaus shrinks into himself. Ben wishes he could make them go away, make them stop resurrecting his own memories. Or he wishes Klaus could do that for both of them. Klaus is a terrible medium, all irresponsible and unprofessional, and he can just stare at the ghosts surrounding his bunk.

Ben recognizes some of them — The Horror’s victims. 

Klaus is not the only one who’s admitted he’s got a problem —

No, _problems._ Should be plural.

**Author's Note:**

> special thanks to tumblr users black-wolf066 and sunriseseance!  
> \---  
> work inspired by:  
> [this post](https://sunriseseance.tumblr.com/post/624295685772230656/okay-i-saw-your-post-on-fanonklaus-and-now-i)  
> [this s2 promo](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lxA3_0T51hM)  
> and by tumblr posts in general  
> \---  
> thanks for reading! comments/your thoughts are very appreciated!


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